


The Living

by Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts



Series: YCTH!Verse [16]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Awkwardness, Background Relationships, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Family Fluff, Feral Behavior, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gore, Intersex, M/M, Multi, Next Generation, Other, Siblings, Stupidity, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts/pseuds/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts
Summary: Angel and Alastor's children, Jim and Vinnie, (as well as the other skitters) navigate adult life in Hell.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Husk/Niffty/Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: YCTH!Verse [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569163
Comments: 54
Kudos: 280





	1. Rockin' Out the Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if this is going to have a plot or not. It'll probably be mostly be random bullshit when I have ideas. 
> 
> Might throw in some sci fi elements since this definitely takes place way in the future. The twins are 22 here.

Books were good. Books were peace and quiet and a way to escape the hectic existence in Hell, so when Jim asked his honorary Aunt Cha-Cha if he could start a library at the Hotel the princess was ecstatic. It already had a room with books in it, but that was more of a study than a true library. So Jim was quick to fix that. 

A horrendous waste of magic and quite a bit of creativity later Jim had the room reshaped to accomodate a few aisles of books. He'd also set up a sideroom with a few instruments in it for any demon who wanted to practice without disturbing anyone. Vinnie called it the Screaming Room because that's how they usually used it. Jim mostly used it as a place to keep his drum set. Drums were a good tool to vent frustration. They let him hit things without hurting anything. 

So Jim minded his books, seeing his Uncle Husker come by periodically to chat and swap old books for new ones. Aunt Niffty also came through for a cleanliness check, though not as frantic as she was around the rest of the hotel since Jim was careful to keep a clean space. Charlie would check on him at least once a day to see how he felt.

And then there was Vinnie, who Jim hadn't even seen in a solid two weeks since they had left the city for a bit to try auditioning in movies. They trudged in past the check-out desk and into the percussion room. They slammed the door and Jim could hear the faintest muffled angry wail. Even soundproofed, Vinnie was loud enough for it to be a moot point. He closed the folder he had been marking in and followed them.

"Didn't go well?" Jim asked.

"Every time! Every damn time I go in an audition room they boot me back out!" Vinnie huffed, snarling at the wall. "I was fuckin' Shenzi in the Lion King!"

"That was high school." Jim pointed out. "Bit below Hellywood." 

"It counts to me!" Vinnie continued, shoving a trombone case aside to make room to sit on the desk. "Are you sure you don't wanna restart our band?"

"I don't want dat attention." Jim sighed. "Again, school don't apply to real life. Maybe talk to Papa about it? He could pull strings."

"I wanna do it myself." Vinnie sighed, pulling their patchwork coat off. Under it was a simple dress over ripped jeans. Fishnets could be seen through the rips, matching their netted arm covers. "How's shit?"

"Same old." Jim shrugged. 

"Same old…" Vinnie agreed. 

"You'll get there." Jim assured, knocking an antler against his sibling's.

"Sure." Vinnie gruffed. "If they ever need a bigass monster and don't wanna drop money on CGI."

"Or sound effects!" Jim encouraged. 

Vinnie chuckled, cheering up despite their earlier upset. Jim smiled, having done his job as a big brother even if the time difference was only by about half an hour. He moved to sit in the seat of the drum set, kicking the pedal for the bass in half notes. Even if he had no desire to take the rhythmic talent to a stage, music was always a remedy. 

Vinnie stood, tapping their claws on the high-hat as they looked around for where they had hidden their doublenecked guitar. Why anyone would try to play one with only two arms Vinnie never understood. You couldn't very well play one without four unless you were only playing one side at once. They let out a sound like a printer jamming and backing up while they tuned it, feeling the need to fill the air with something other than just instrumental set up. 

_"Superstition, fear, and jealousy."_ Vinnie quoted, filtering their voice to sound like a well-aged record. They weren't nearly as proficient with magic as their brother, but sound was easy enough to manipulate.

"Of course." Jim rolled his eyes, but adjusted his beat to a march as Vinnie started to play properly.

Bad days usually put Vinnie in the mood for metal, so Rob Zombie was a favorite of theirs to cover. Rejection was always the worst. There were a few gaps in the music, instruments they didn't have. Usually Vinnie would fill the gaps but they didn't feel like it this time. They just felt like feeling the strings cut against their fingers and listening to the loud angry music they could pull from something other than themself. 

Halfway through _Dragula_ , Vinnie switched to Three Days Grace's _Break_. Jim stalled for a split second before catching up, singing the echoed bits after Vinnie. They ran through a few more songs, eventually making a jarring shift from metal to more upbeat songs. Both strained their voices, but it was nice to share the moment. Cathartic.

"We need a brass for _No._ Where the fuck is Rizzo when we need her?" Vinnie sighed.

"We could try putting it in a minor key?" Jim suggested. "She's holed up for the week avoidin' all de other hounds."

"Seasonal?" Vinnie guessed.

"Yeah." 

"Shouldn't _you_ be with her? Fight de other boys off for her?"

Jim threw one of his drumsticks at Vinnie. "Shut up!"

Vinnie took the guitar strap off their shoulder, putting it down safely. They took a wide stance, thumping their chest in challenge. "Make me bitch!"

Of course, with the insult to his honor, Jim had to tackle Vinnie.

Husk came into the percussion room a bit later, knowing thats where Jim usually was if he wasn't at his desk. He found his nephew and neiphew grappling and shoving each other, antlers locked and knocking things over. Thankfully they had stayed humanoid, as their natural forms were about the size of a moose and there was no room for two things that size. He had a book in his hand, and held it up. 

"Can I exchange this or are you two chucklefucks just gonna knock shit over for an hour?" Husk asked, drawing the roughhousing siblings' attention.


	2. Hair Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins visit their fathers and Alastor helps Jim with his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twins are still 22 here.

As Jim had grown his wavy hair had become something much more tightly curled. In his natural form it was practically wool but in his shifted state the longer it got the more of a hassle it became. Still every time he thought of cutting he was away from scissors and every time he had scissors on hand he didn't care to cut it. 

"Your hair's gettin' bigger than you." Angel said as an offhand comment, trying to comb through the poofy, horrendously tangled curls with his fingers. "How do you even brush this?"

"Broke de last brush…" Jim admitted. "Ain't bought anoder…"

"Sheesh…" Angel said, a set of hands on his hips and pulling out his phone. "Okay we got two options. We can sheer it off or I can call Papa to come do magic on your head."

Jim shrugged. 

"Okay well I ain't cuttin' it off if you ain't sure." Angel said, tapping on his phone's screen. 

A moment later Alastor came upstairs. He found two thirds of his immediate family in the kitchen, Jim sitting on the high stool and Angel fussing over him. 

"Vinnie still hasn't arrived?" Alastor asked. "Thought y' was both comin' over together."

"They crashed a car." Jim muttered.

"Fuck! Are they okay?" Angel asked, alarmed.

"Yeah." Jim nodded. "It wasn't deir car. We was both walkin' but some idiot honked so then Vin started playin' road chicken. Dey was winnin' when I left dem."

"It _is_ fun to buck cars right off the road…" Alastor mused, admitting to having done the same. "Windshields really are no match for antlers."

"Dey was just aimin' for bumpers and fenders." Jim corrected. 

"Okay. Well…" Angel said, then gestured to Jim's hair. "Al can you do somethin' with this?" 

Alastor looked, cocked his head, and twitched an ear backward. "What's wrong with it?"

"I can't even brush it." Jim grunted, crossing both sets of arms. 

"Dat's cause y' usin' a brush." Alastor explained. "Need a pick. At least at first." He produced one out of shadow, and Angel stepped out of the way to give him room. "Got y' Grandma Ann's hair, looks like. De curls skipped me somehow..." He tried picking through the curls, then stopped with a hum. "Well this has been left alone far too long." 

Jim felt the stool move to the sink, bringing him with it. Several of the shadows in the room spasmed at the startle, but calmed just as quickly as Jim noticed and dispelled them. He had very good control of his magic but sometimes it would react without him thinking. Angel and Alastor, both used to the magical stutters, barely even noticed it happen. 

"Can y' hand me de coconut oil, sha?" Alastor asked.

"Gotcha." Angel answered, pulling the pantry open and tossing a jar over. 

Alastor caught it and set to working the oil through Jim's hair. Once it was coated he started picking through and it started to detangle. Once done he tilted the stool back.

"Watch y' horns." Alastor guided, turning the water on to start rinsing the oil out of his son's hair.

"Shouldn't we use soap?" Angel reminded. Jim reached up and backward for the dish soap and Angel continued. "Fuckin' shampoo, smartass." 

"No need." Alastor dismissed. "His hair was unruly, not dirty."

It was only a minute or two later when the front door opened and Vinnie strutted in, a tire rim on their head with their antlers sticking through the gaps. They looked over the counter separating the kitchen from the living room to find their fathers and brother crowded around the sink.

"Sup, Padres?" They called, speaking through a burp, kicking the door shut again. "Why we drownin' Jim?" 

"Bad hair year." Angel answered. "Nice hat!"

"Thanks! It won't come off." Vinnie said, dropping their stuff by the door. 

"I'll get you!" Angel said, delightedly walking around the counter. "Here, baby. Head down. You went and got taller than me." 

Vinnie snickered and ducked down. It took quite a bit of effort on both parts for the tire rim to come loose, even more difficult due to the fact it was the sort to spin. Both ended up nearly falling on their asses when the rim came free, but a set of tendrils caught them both and set them upright again. 

"Thanks Slim Jim." Vinnie called. 

"Klutzazoid." Jim answered. 

"Hey!" Angel huffed. 

"Not you, Dad." 

Jim's head was out of the sink now, his hair having been wrung out with a towel instead of rubbed dry. After asking if Jim wanted to leave it as a fluffy afro or something more manageable, Alastor was busy twisting the damp hair into thick locks.

"Aren't dreadlocks permanent?" Angel asked as he noticed.

"Not if y' got patience and a crochet hook." Alastor shrugged. 

Vinnie's hair was wavy but not nearly as textured so Angel had no issue brushing it. He even pulled some of it back, braiding four tight lines between Vinnie's right ear and antler. 

"Why the fuck do you smell like burnt rubber?" Angel asked now that he was close enough to catch the odd smell.

"I ate a tire." Vinnie stated proudly.

"Of course you did." Angel chuckled. "I'd tell you not to spoil your dinner but I know you'll still try to eat your plate once it's empty." 

Vinnie didn't have the patience to sit still any longer, so their hair was left with the four rows on one side and the rest loose. Jim sat through a full set of dreads easily, and pulled them back into a ponytail to keep them from getting in his face. 

"Pa's turn!" Jim decided.

"I don't need--" Alastor began, but was sadly outnumbered.

"No this is great. We can all play with each other's hair, Vinnie's been eatin' garbage already so we can order a pizza instead of cookin'." Angel started to tease, and at Vinnie's scoff added, " _Five_ pizzas. All we gotta do now is paint our claws and talk about who we like-like. I'll go first. I got a massive crush on your Papa."

Despite being married with children for years, the comment still got Alastor to blush, his grey skin flushing darker and his ears folding back.

"Gay." Jim quipped

"Yep!" Angel replied cheerfully.


	3. Sins of Their Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor was a cannibal and perpetually hungry. Angel was a spider. The mix didn't always turn out so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for blood and gore. This gets dark. Partially inspired by the opening theme of Beastars so of course it is. Vinnie is 22 here.
> 
> I also have a drawing that goes with this (Link: https://bayouboy-alastor.tumblr.com/post/618769412059693056/warning-blood-gore )

It always surprised Alastor just a bit when his phone rang. He'd had a few decades to get used to the short little ding it made for notifications like when someone texted him; Usually his husband or children. Very rarely did he get an actual phone call. He looked at the screen to see who it was before answering quickly, setting it to speaker since that felt more natural than holding the little brick to his head.

"You usually text. Did something happen?" Alastor asked, concerned.

"Can you come get me?" Vinnie asked meekly, their voice wavering. 

"Where are you?" 

"I don't… I dunno, I just…" There was a click as Vinnie hung up and tuned a radio near them between channels into static.

 _I'm here._ Alastor heard, less with his ears and more in the same place in the back of his head he felt the pull that came from being summoned. 

Alastor manifested his microphone and spoke into it, the same in-between frequency Vinnie was using. "I hear you. Ten seconds." 

Through the static Alastor could hear Vinnie counting and let the sound guide him through the dark and to his child. Where he wound up was a bedroom of some sort, either a hotel room or an apartment but it was unclear which from the inside. It was dark, but Alastor could sense enough. The smell of fresh blood was alarmingly strong, and he could hear Vinnie tucked into a corner, their count reaching ten just as Alastor found and flipped the lightswitch. 

On the bed was a strange demon, horned and feathered wings but lacking a face. They should have had a face, whoever they were, but in its place was left part of a broken skull and torn skin gaping open to reveal a mess of brain matter and muscle. Alastor, being the way he was, could appreciate the gore. The nudity, not so much.

"I didn't mean to." Vinnie said, their tears audible in their tone. They were sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, red staining their chin and chest as well as the disheveled clothes they had clearly rushed to put on. Judging by the lack of sleeves, the shirt wasn't even theirs. "I just bit. I don't know why…"

"Well dis ain't some'n I 'spected y' to inherit." Alastor said calmly. "Course in my case it was a knife. Y' teeth're close enough, huh?" He tried to turn the situation into a joke to ease Vinnie's nerves, but they were still visibly shaking so he grew serious. He pulled them up from the corner to his chest even though they were taller than him now, rubbing their back to give them something tactile to focus on. "Did he hurt you?"

"No." 

"Good!" Alastor said, reaching over with a shadow to pull the blanket of the bed to fold over the temporary corpse and hide it from view. "Don't worry, Sinners heal. He'll be up in a few hours, a day at the most, and if your venom took he'll probably have a delightfully strange hallucination to take his mind off of not having most of one for a while. Someone special I should meet?"

"No." Vinnie shook their head.

"Then there's no reason not to leave him behind." Alastor said, turning the light back off, stepping backward, and guiding Vinnie home through the dark. 

He brought them to the bathroom quickly, letting them sit on the toilet lid while he wet a washcloth to clean their face. They'd stopped crying which was progress at least, but now just looked tired and still quite a bit shaken.

"It was an accident." Vinnie insisted, though Alastor didn't need any convincing. 

"Instinct hits hard." Alastor told them, understanding. "Y' got dem stronger dan de rest of us. Can be a good thing. Keeps y' safe, but fear brings dem out more."

"I wasn't _scared._ " Vinnie protested.

"Y' was nervous, den?" Alastor corrected, and Vinnie didn't deny that much. 

They pitched forward to put their now-clean face in their hands. Alastor had to lean back slightly to avoid a knock from their antlers, not an intentional thing but Vinnie was far from being in the right mind to be mindful of the space they took up. They took a deep breath, releasing it with a ragged scream that Alastor would never admit made him jump slightly, then they sat up straight. They sniffed, took the washcloth from their father, and tossed it into the tub.

"I'm gon' take a shower." They decided, and Alastor left them to it. 

Alastor returned to where he had found Vinnie, picking up anything that looked like it might belong to them. It wasn't much as they had been practically living out of their backpack and guitar case. They didn't need to, but it was easier for them to wander that way. After a thought Alastor also scribbled a quick note about the bite being accidental just in case the stranger was anyone Vinnie might still want to interact with later. If not, an apology still wouldn't hurt. He brought the belongings home, clearing out pockets before tossing the clothes into the wash.

Angel came into the laundry room, startling as he saw Alastor.

"Fuck! I thought you was in the shower." Angel said, a hand to his chest. "Why's the water goin'?"

"Vinnie's home." Alastor answered.

Angel brightened, grinning almost as wide as Alastor. "Oh that's great! When'd they get here?"

"About twenty minutes ago." Alastor answered. He didn't know if Vinnie wanted what had happened to be shared. They'd called Alastor to come get them for a reason and that may have been just because Alastor could get to them quickly without being disturbed by the blood like their brother would have been. They might have called Angel if Angel could shadowwalk, but Alastor had no way of knowing that. For now he would keep it quiet, letting Vinnie make that decision.

"Somethin' wrong?" Angel asked, catching on that Alastor's smile was a bit forced.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "It's Vinnie's business of if they want to share or not. Privacy."

"Privacy." Angel repeated, understanding. "Is Jim comin' over too?"

"I don't think so." Alastor answered. "Not today at least."

Vinnie did end up sharing what had happened with Angel after they had cleaned up and gotten through half a cup of coffee. Angel got a few more details out of them, nodding and listening as Vinnie explained what had led to the bite.

"Your aunt Molly did the same thing once." Angel said with a shrug. "Spider thing. At least spiders with ovaries."

That surprised Alastor, who shook his head in shock before asking. "Have you--?"

"No, but my first few times in Hell I was stoned off my ass and nowadays I'm desensitized as shit." Angel answered quickly. 

"I don't want it to happen again…" Vinnie said quickly. "I couldn't control it."

"You should get a muzzle." Angel suggested. "It'd go with the rest of your Tough Bitch style."


	4. Material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One navigates freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just felt like writing about One. She got Angel's eyes, Alastor's teeth, but otherwise looks like a cryptid or something.

Most of the other Skitters could shift, at least somewhat. One could not. That was fine with her. She had gone most of her life without hands. Paws and teeth were enough to do what she needed. Otherwise, she was just happy to be somewhere less hazardous than what she was used to. The hotel was safe. More than that, it was comfortable. She could hunt, but she didn't need too. She could watch over her siblings, but she didn't need to do that either. They were fed. They were housed. And no one controlled where they went or what they did. 

So One spent quite a bit of time in the garden of the Hotel's courtyard. It smelled nice there, and sometimes there would be other demons that spent time there. Most often it was a winged cat, a small buggish lady, or an odd snake. Aunt and uncles, One had been informed though those titles didn't mean much to her. One liked that tiny lady best. She was nice, and _fast._ It was good for One to put her energy into something passive like running, Charlie had said, so trying to keep up with Niffty as she flitted about the hotel was a fun challenge. 

One avoided Alastor himself at first, as well as Angel, finding the emotions connected too raw to process too soon but Husk was alright. He didn't treat her like something was wrong with her when she didn't know how to do something, or what something was. He just showed her a correct way and let her figure it out naturally. Doorknobs, remote buttons, even the zippers on clothing that she could go without but had been made for her anyway. 

"You don't have fur. Believe it or not winters in this Circle get cold as shit." Husk had told her when he passed the gift along.

One took the gift, not asking who it was from but still wondering what it cost. She couldn't help but think that everything had to cost something, an ingrained sense of unfair fairness that made it hard for her to truly understand the concept of kindness just for kindness' sake. Her family had learned, after a while, to stop letting her know where gifts came from anyway so she couldn't ask what they wanted in exchange. 

"On your mark!" Niffty had taken to calling in the morning, just outside One's door.

One opened it, tensing as she waited for the signal, watching Niffty pull her maid's cart out of the way but keep a rag and spray bottle on hand. 

"Get set!" One answered, at the ready.

"Be careful!" Vaggie warned, from where she could see down the hall of the first floor from the lobby where she was running the bar.

Both Niffty and One took that as a cue, racing down the hallway, Niffty keeping up amongst doing her usual room-checks while One only had to run. Even so, Niffty won four times out of every five. And when One inevitably got faster, she took to pulling the maid's cart as well, surprised when Charlie started allowing her a salary for it. 

Money was odd. Usually One was used to bartering things and favors for things and favors. Money however, could be exchanged for whatever she liked up to a certain set value. She simultaneously understood it, and barely understood at all. Still, Charlie had given her something like a saddlebag with a wallet on a chain attached to it and told her a little plastic card had the money on it. She was then shown how to use the card and not to lose it or let anyone she didn't trust hold it. For a while, One kept forgetting she even had it. She was used to not having much, and so she didn't need much. Food and shelter was provided, after all. 

"I'm going grocery shopping!" Niffty called out over the intercom. "If anyone has a special request please write it down at the front desk within the next ten minutes!"

That was what made One remember that she had money, and groceries were a thing that money could be used for. So she went downstairs, standing stiffly at the front desk to wait for Niffty to get there.

"At ease, kid." Husk said when he saw her there.

One sat instead. "I am nineteen years old."

"Still a kid to me." Husk pointed out. "You need help writing something down?"

"No." One answered.

"Then… What are you waiting f--" 

Niffty flitted up to the desk, picking up the piece of paper and folding it into the list she already had. She started toward the door but One was quick to chase her down. Niffty noticed and stopped. 

"Oh! Did you need something too?" Niffty asked.

"I wanted to come with you?" One asked, unsure if the request may be ill received. "To the groceries?"

Niffty, however, was _delighted_. "Of course you can!"

Husk smiled, watching Niffty lead One out. Really One needed to get out of the hotel more, or at all, and he knew how much Niffty liked having the girl around. He wished them a fun outing, kissed Niffty's hair, then continued his previous route to the courtyard. 

One wasn't sure what she had expected 'groceries' to be. She knew it included food but Niffty had brought her to a giant store with a bit of everything in it. There was so much variety it was a bit overwhelming. 

"Do you want to push the cart?" Niffty asked, noticing the hesitation and giving One a familiar task to help ground her. 

One nodded, finding a bit odd to push a cart from the back rather than pulling it from the front with a harness. Still, there was a rack at the bottom of the cart to put her front set of forepaws, so she could push that way instead of using the much higher handle she would have to rear up to use. Niffty walked ahead to lead, not nearly as fast as she usually went so that One could maneuver the cart without hitting anything. 

She got looks. Even by Hell's standards One looked a bit off. In lower Circles more beastly forms were common but most of those were also a bit mindless from more severe curses. Alive and curseless, One was fully aware of herself, even if her rough upbringing had given her a bit of a violent streak. 

"Hey lady, no pets!" 

"The fuck even is that?"

"Ugly fuckin' horse…"

Niffty ignored the insults, trying to set a good example as she loaded the cart with detergents and food. One followed suit, though did entertain fantasies of putting the next Sinner to say anything about her on the ground. Or perhaps through it. 

"Oh!" Niffty called, drawing One's attention as she noticed the younger girl had begun snarling. "You should pick something! Since you came out with me. As a treat. Anything you want!"

So One looked around, eyeing things on shelves and occasionally sniffing. She could read on a basic level which helped. But it was still a lot to take in as she thought. The hotel provided her food and shelter so she didn't need those. But Niffty hadn't said to pick what she needed, just something she wanted. 

What did One _want_?

Following her nose lead her to an aisle of colorful glass jars full of scented wax. One read the sign out loud since it helped her sound new words out and understand them; "Candles."

Niffty and One spent quite a while in that section. Niffty opening the candle jars for One to smell them more clearly until finally One picked out a blue one that said it smelled like midnight but actually smelled closer to a mix of roses and black pepper. Niffty offered to pay for it, but One insisted on using her own card for it since it made it feel more like she had earned the nice thing instead of just being given it.

Over time and more grocery trips One earned other nice things; More candles, a CD player and a CD full of piano music, a skein of yarn she used to teach herself to claw-knit since she had seen a few of her siblings form webs and do so even though she was unable to produce the same. It was all small things, but they were _hers._


	5. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor, Angel, and Vinnie mourn Jim fot the three days he was down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhis takes place before the last chapter of Baby Talk.

Alastor had to go back. Jim hadn't returned with them, so he still had to be Nowhere. Angel was still healing, Vinnie locked in his arms while both were injured and tired and if they were hurt then Jim must be as well. Alastor needed to bring Jim home. Home where he was safe. Where he was cared for. Away from the dark that he tried to pretend he didn't fear. He hadn't come home on his own, after all, even throwing everyone else through a rift and into the hotel lobby. 

Alastor trudged tiredly onward. Darkness he usually moved through easily felt more like thick sludge. This lack of a place which usually smelled like nothing at all was rank with the scent of blood. Souring. Rotting. 

Finally Alastor found the red and white fur, marred with black blood. Not moving. Not even breathing. Nearby a skull painted face watched over, waiting. 

_I killed my son._

It didn't matter that Jim had been the one to bleed himself out. It had been Alastor's example. It had been Alastor's genetics that granted Jim the blood-specific magic that had consumed him. Magic that had torn him apart to push his family to safety. Alastor's fault Jim had been Nowhere in the first place. 

_I killed my son._

"Don't take him." Alastor said meekly to the Loa that stood vigil. "Please, not yet." 

"He a'ready gone." Samedi answered. "Up to him now, what he wannu do." 

_I killed my son._

Alastor didn't know what that meant, but he knew better than to ask. Numbly, he carefully picked the body up, noting that he couldn't have been dead for very long as he was limp and still not completely cold yet. His smile fell as a sob escaped him, and he didn't bother to put it back on his face. 

_I killed my son._

Alastor took the body home.

"Oh thank fuck, you found him." Angel said weakly, coming forward. 

Alastor didn't have the strength to correct his husband, though Angel realized a few seconds later. The wail that followed was expected, but still made the barbed wire wrapped around Alastor's heart all the tighter. 

"Not my baby." Angel begged, clinging to the body. "Oh god no, not my baby."

_I killed my son._

Alastor found himself unable to speak at all. 

Vinnie was likewise quiet for a moment before shaking their head. "No," They said quietly, reaching out to shove at Jim's shoulder. "No, y' gotta get up. Ev'rybody gets up. Quit playin'." 

The next few hours saw Alastor just outside of Pentagram City, still silent as he dug through the dusty soil while Angel cursed both him and Kalfu and God Himself. Alastor let him, having nothing to say for himself as he blamed himself as well. Vinnie didn't come with them, having stayed home upstairs to avoid listening to their Dad shout and cry and scream. 

It wasn't real, Vinnie decided as they passed their room and stepped into their brother's. Any minute they were sure Jim would come in after to tell them to get out of his room. It couldn't be real. It was just some cruel joke. Maybe payback for Vinnie chewing his drumstick that one time so that he only had three until he had to buy another set so then there were five and that was the wrong number of drumsticks. 

Jim had been pretty annoyed by that. Deciding that maybe they should make it an even four again, Vinnie took the spare drumstick off of where they sat resting on the snare and started chewing it. Maybe then Jim wouldn't be mad about it anymore and they could laugh the whole thing off. Or maybe he'd be even more mad and get in that passive aggressive way he got and tell Vinnie off for being destructive again. Either way was fine by Vinnie as long as he got up. Because demons were supposed to get up. That's how Hell worked.

A day passed. A casket was bought. Vinnie was told to put on something nice or at least not ripped so they borrowed one of Jim's dresses since he didn't let his dresses get torn or pick at seams. A funeral was had. Alastor stayed speechless. Angel cried. Rizzo howled. Vinnie couldn't feel anything at all, but still had the lucidity to leave their guitar pick on their brother's still chest. 

Twitch found Vinnie a little later, having to climb up the Radio Tower to get to them. He nearly slipped a few times, not having a spider's gift of sticking paws to rely on. 

"Do you want to talk?" Twitch said once he was close enough.

"Dad and Pa are fightin'. Well, Dad's fightin'… Pa's just takin' it. He ain't talked at all since…" Vinnie sighed. "I don't know what I should be doin'. Still don't feel real." 

Twitch frowned, not sure how to help. When imps died it was permanent, not like demons like Vinnie had been raised by. He'd always been more careful than a Sinner because of that but for Vinnie this whole situation was both a loss and a reality check. Jim had always been the careful one. The voice of reason. An impulse control that Vinnie didn't have by themself. Their friend. Their brother. Their _twin._

Jim had been there when Vinnie hatched and Vinnie assumed he always would be. Vinnie was fiercely protective of him because of it but when it came down to real danger Jim had been the one to save everyone else and Vinnie hadn't been much use at defending him. Now he was gone and Vinnie realized how lost they felt without him.

Vinnie didn't know when they finally started to cry, curling against Twitch's smaller but welcoming form. It went on for a while though. Enough to tire them out. Twitch helped them down when they stopped, despite having less sure footing. He had to leave soon after which was fine, since Vinnie was too tired to spend time properly. 

Again Vinnie passed their own room in favor of their brother's. Angel was already there, apparently having the same idea as Vinnie. Any anger Vinnie had held previously for their fathers faded into empathy as Angel looked up, face wet and eyes raw from tears. Vinnie was hit with the realization that being older didn't mean much, as Angel looked just as lost. Their fathers weren't all-knowing. Their fathers were just as stupid and prone to making mistakes and fucking up all of everything just like Vinnie.

"I'm sorry." Angel whispered, and Vinnie started to break down all over again, crawling onto the bed and latching onto their Dad who held them with all six arms. "I couldn't do anything. I'm so sorry baby."

It was late when Alastor joined them both. Angel's anger had finally faded and he apologized to Alastor as well when he appeared in the doorway.

"I killed our son." Alastor sighed, the first thing he had said since picking up Jim's body and the only thing he had been able to think. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"No you didn't." Angel protested quietly, not willing to risk waking Vinnie as they were finally resting. 

"I should have--" 

"Stop." Angel sighed. "Just stop. He did what he could and _that_ killed him. Not you."

"It was our mess…" 

"Yeah. _Ours._ " Angel agreed, then lifted a hand from Vinnie's back to reach out. 

Alastor took it gingerly, letting Angel pull him down to lay at their child's opposite side. Vinnie shifted but didn't wake, sighing in their sleep. Alastor absently brushed their hair from their face, noting a furrowed brow. Asleep but not relaxed. It broke his heart a little more to see. 

The door had been left open and no one was surprised when Nuggets jumped up on the bed, wedging themself between Angel and Vinnie, who flinched as rough hooves climbed over. Vinnie looked up, registering the presence of the pig and Alastor. They looked up at the door expectantly, then sighed. Everyone was here except for the one person they really wanted to see. Disappointed but not surprised, they settled again.

Maybe tomorrow would hurt less.


	6. Descendants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim may be dead, but the Loa genes offset a few things. Vinnie trolls their parents. Alastor has to face a fear he hates to admit having, and he and Angel consider the passage of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all over the place but i had a couple of ideas and they smooshed together

It took until Jim was twenty-eight to ask Rizzo out on an official date. He'd been smitten since they were children of course, only being so close with Vinnie but there was a definite difference between his twin and the blue-streaked hellhound. Everyone could see it coming, so no one was really surprised when just a few years after there was a wedding. 

Alastor couldn't help but be a little melancholic as he watched his son dance with his new wife during the celebration. What had happened to the tiny fawnling he had taught to dance on his feet?

"He grew up." Angel answered, having had the same thought and reading it easily on the other's face. Smiling, the spider pointed to the table of food where their other child stood, talking to a small striped imp between shoveling a mix of cheese and plastic cutlery into their mouth. "Those two'll be next, just watch." 

"Not until they get a house." Alastor stated sternly. "They can't live off of busking forever." 

Angel chuckled, shaking his head. 

A few months later saw Jim excitedly pacing and flapping all four hands. Vinnie, amused, was doing their best to get the good news out of him. It wasn't often Jim smiled as wide as their Pa so it had to be something particularly special. 

"Rizzo's pregnant!" Jim finally managed to say.

Vinnie clapped, nearly cackling. "Oh my Satan. Don't tell Dad and Pa yet I got de best idea!"

"Oh no," Jim groaned. "Okay…" He conceded, aware that Vinnie was going to do what they wanted to do.

Angel and Alastor's home was always welcome to their children, even though neither were living there anymore. Still it wasn't out of place for Vinnie to wander in for whatever reason, usually to bathe because they were technically homeless by virtue of wanderlust. Vinnie made most of their living through street performance, and occasionally working for their grandfather Henroin with the Spider Mafia as a Threat. They had wanted to be an actor, but and director only wanted bragging rights for hiring 'The Radio Demon's Kid' or 'Angel Dust's Kid' and Vinnie wanted to be famous for themself if they were to get famous at all. 

What _was_ out of place was that this time Vinnie brought a large pot with them and set it on the back burner of the stove on a simmer, asked that no one touch it, and then spent the next few days sleeping on the couch so they could keep an eye on the pot, occasionally taking the lid off to pour water in since some kept evaporating. Mostly, they were guarding it and Angel could tell something was definitely up.

"Okay, I'm lookin'." Angel decided, when Vinnie went outside for a run.

"Dey said to leave it be, sha." Alastor protested, though he couldn't say he wasn't also bitingly curious.

"Yeah, well." Angel shrugged, opening the lid and then quickly shutting it. "It's fuckin' eggs."

"Like to eat?" Alastor asked, dubious.

"No, babe. It's a bunch of _eggs._ " Angel repeated, and at Alastor's blank stare clarified; "It's imp-spawn." 

Alastor's grin widened and he couldn't hold back the giggle that fell out of him. This was when Vinnie chose to come back inside, quickly shooing their fathers away from the simmering pot. 

"I said leave it!" 

"No, we're not leavin' it!" Angel said, hands on his hips. "You're don't even live anywhere. Theres gotta be a hundred fuckin' eggs in there. We've had the damn condom talk about twenty times now! What are you thinkin'?"

"Twitch and me got carried 'way." Vinnie deflected, putting their acting skills to use. "'Sides, imps eat most of deir siblin's in de first week while dey all fishy."

"Grandchildren." Alastor said quietly, then in a louder tone cheered and then took Angel's upper set of hands in his own. " _Grandchildren!_ "

Which is when Vinnie realised that unless they wanted to completely crush their Pa's heart they had to come clean right away. A shame really, since they had been prepared to buy a kiddie pool and larger decoy eggs to see how long they could keep their fathers in a state of mild panic.

"Relax, dey ain't real." Vinnie sighed.

Alastor's face immediately dropped. "Oh."

"For the best." Angel reminded. "When you have a fuckin house of your own then maybe."

"No, I don't want kids...ever." Vinnie agreed. "Can't swim anyway."

"Oh…" Alastor said, clearly a small bit disappointed.

"The fuck does swimmin' have'ta do with-- You know what, I ain't goin' there." Angel shook his head, deciding quickly that if it was something he actually needed to know he would have known already.

Later that evening, Jim came by with his wife and they both broke the news that Rizzo was pregnant. Alastor was overjoyed. Angel, after being assured that hellhound litters were usually never more than four at a time, was also glad of the news. At least it would be a handful of puppies and not a hundred tadpoles.

A few months later, less time than human gestation took, Rizzo had delivered three healthy puppies. Two girls and a boy; Anna, Ruth, and Rowlf. The deer and dog genes had blended into each other fairly well, although each of the pups had four eyes. They had also inherited shapeshifting, so they looked even more like dogs than a typical hellhound did. 

Alastor had gotten used to Rizzo quickly, since she was upright and humanoid enough he could overlook her canine qualities most of the time. But the puppies were new, and there was nothing humanoid about them and wouldn't be until they learned to shift. He was conflicted. He loved them of course, as they were his son's children. But he had to sit down if he was to hold any of them.

The first time he heard little Anna bark, visiting Jim at the library of the hotel and having the tiny body placed in his arms, Alastor felt sick at the sound. A rare spike of fear shot through him, and he had no idea why it was so strong. He truly loved his grandchildren, but he hated his instinctive reaction to them. All because they resembled dogs too closely.

"Pa?" Jim asked, having seen his father's smile drop and ears swivel backward to settle flat against his head. "Here, let me take her back."

Alastor didn't move, feeling frozen as his son gingerly took the puppy out of his arms. Husk, having been present at the time whispered something to his nephew who then took all three puppies out of the library. Husk settled in front of Alastor.

"You're fine." Husk said softly, his usual gravel more of a purr for the moment. "Nothing's chasing you."

Alastor hadn't realized he needed the assurance. He knew nothing was chasing him, so why did Husk saying so manage to set his nerves less on edge? Why did Husk even know what to say?

"I was there when you died, dumbass." Husk pointed out. "And I know what ptsd looks like. For me it's guns, for you it's dogs." 

"The dogs didn't kill me. _You_ did." Alastor huffed. "I have no fear of you."

"Hey, it's your brain. It's gonna focus on what it wants to focus on." Husk explained. "Stop looking at them as puppies and try to see them as just babies."

"Babies don't bark." Alastor sniffled, and wondered when he had started crying.

"Yeah, babies don't eat plastic either but you managed with Vinnie." Husk countered.

Alastor chuckled at that, calming considerably. He took a few minutes to get himself in order before leaving the library, finding his son just outside and speaking with Angel who was holding both Ruth and Rowlf by making use of his extra arms. Carefully, he took Anna back from Jim and let the puppy, _the baby_ , gum at his fingers.

"I will get better for them." Alastor said quietly, pushing through his discomfort. He was their grandfather after all.

"How many generations do you think we'll be around for?" Angel wondered aloud in bed some time much later. 

"All of dem." Alastor said matter-of-factly.

He and Angel couldn't exactly grow old together, being dead already before even meeting. Still, they had watched their children grow. Their grandchildren were growing, and at least one was sure to have children of their own. Exterminations hadn't caught Angel or Alastor yet, and most likely wouldn't as long as they kept their yearly safety routine up and the Radio Tower well-warded. They could be around forever, watching over their descendants until no one was even sure how the spider and deer were even related to them. Maybe even to the end of Time itself. 

"I hope so." Angel agreed, petting Alastor's hair as he pictured it before drifting into sleep.


	7. That Damn Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vinnie buys a shirt. Alastor hates the shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twins are seventeen at the start of this and twenty by the end of it. Slight spoiler for Baby Talk.

Alastor hated that stupid fucking shirt.

Vinnie had bought it on an impulse, as they did with most things, when they were seventeen on a trip to the mall. It was a black teeshirt with "CUNT" printed across the chest in a metallic golden fabric ink. Large shiny capital letters that were hard to ignore. 

"Rather tasteless, isn't it?" Alastor pointed out, hoping to discourage his child from wasting their money on such a thing. 

"Kinda off-sweet, actually." Angel had answered with a snicker, reffering to the word on the shirt, rather than the shirt itself as he browsed overpriced plastic jewelry.

" _Dad_ , behave." Jim grunted in mild disgust, while Alastor merely fixed his husband with a warning glare. 

Vinnie laughed and bought it anyway. It was their money, fairly earned, and their choice what they spent it on. Unfortunately for Alastor this ended up being Vinnie's favorite shirt, so he had to look at it often. Once or twice a week they would wear it and Alastor was for once glad that Vinnie had opted out of finishing high school in favor of getting a job early. A job they hadn't actually gotten around to getting seeing as they seemed convinced playing their guitar and eating odd things on street corners for other demons' amusement counted as a job. Alastor could appreciate honest work busking but he hoped Vinnie would find something more financially stable soon. He suggested applying to a job in the mall while they were there, but was met with a full set of six rolling eyes.

The shirt fit most of Vinnie's dark and torn wardrobe at least so it didn't look out of place on them. He almost got used to it, only protesting a little when Vinnie wore it out of the house, to which Angel often countered with the importance of wearing what they wanted and not caring for others' opinions. It started to feel more like an issue when Alastor saw the vulgar shirt on his son, contrasting starkly with his white fur and light floral skirt. 

"Where are your own shirts?" Alastor asked when he saw it.

"Too tired fo' doin' laundry…" Jim admitted from where he was laid out on the couch, Nuggets sleeping on his stomach, and he certainly looked it so Alastor didn't press. 

Jim's ever-present fatigue seemed to have only worsened since his death so even though both twins were responsible for their own clothes and dishes it was understandable when the boy fell behind. Alastor took up the slack just once, and when he found the shirt in the washer, he promptly "lost" it.

But then it turned up again on Angel, who gave him a knowing smirk when passing him in the hallway. 

"How--?"

"You ain't slick, babe." Angel chuckled. "I'm headin' to the Hotel."

"...In _dat_?" Alastor squawked.

"We have teenagers. I'm allowed to be ugly at therapy. No time to change and I'm late!" Angel called back, already halfway out the door. 

"You're beautiful!" Alastor called after him once he registered Angel's comment toward himself.

"Y' both dorks!" Vinnie called from somewhere upstairs. 

The next time Alastor had the opportunity to get rid of the shirt, he didn't bother with simply throwing it in with garbage. That had been too easily foiled. Instead he opened a rift to another Ring, tossing the shirt into it and sealing it away. He was sure no one would think to look for it so far away, and since he didn't see it for the next few weeks he assumed his attempt had worked.

Until Vinnie came home after being hired and promptly fired from some fast food place, trading their torn uniform for black cotton and golden lettering after a much needed shower to wash off the smell of grease and blood and some odd but unplaceable chemical. To Alastor's credit, the blood scent was his priority and he didn't actually notice the shirt until after Vinnie assured him it was just a torn ear and the blood he was smelling was mostly someone else's stuck under their claws.

"What did you get in a fight for?" Angel asked.

"Judah left his station a mess fo' me to clean up like a damn prick, he lucky I didn't put his head in de fryer." Vinnie explained. "Would've bit him too if he didn't smell like de weird shit Pa takes to Miss Rosie."

"Yuck." Jim supplied helpfully, sat at the counter to do his homework but still half-listening.

"Yeah, good call." Angel said. "Don't put people like that in your mouth. You don't wanna know where they've been."

"Where have they been?" Alastor asked, confused.

"You don't wanna know." Angel repeated. "I hate that I know." 

Alastor settled for confusion at that, sure he could get Angel to tell him later and then regretting it when his husband actually did explain.

"Are some people really so desperate?" Alastor asked, mildly horrified.

"I think they're just shy?" Angel shrugged. "Got a few of them workin' for Val."

"I want a list." Alastor stated darkly.

"Babe, I was down for those. I don't remember shit." Angel sighed. 

"I'm sure there's a record somewhere." Alastor growled.

The shock of the revelation was enough to distract from the fact that the shirt was back in their lives and it was a solid few months before Alastor felt like doing something to be rid of the shirt again. He briefly wondered if Vinnie had just bought a new one, but it had the same torn-and-mended shoulder of the original which debunked that theory. He tossed it Nowhere, certain that since only he and Jim could get there unassisted that the shirt would surely stay lost. 

It was back the next day, again worn by Jim. This time under a hoodie so only the middle "UN" showed. Still, Alastor recognized it. Since at the time Jim was occupied with his drumset, clearly working out what bit of energy he had for the moment, Alastor didn't press. Instead he simply let his own Shadow loose to give Jim's something to chase while he listened to his son play and waited for another time to try, and fail, to be rid of the shirt.

It was years later, after helping Jim move his drumset to the hotel, and waving Vinnie goodbye as they left the city on a motorcycle to try to find their calling by travelling that Alastor once again found the shirt in the laundry. Both of the twins had moved out. It had been left behind, probably by mistake. Alastor set it aside as he continued to fold laundry, alone in the house for now since Angel was out with Cherri, coping with the empty nest in his own way by surrounding himself with people even though Alastor prefered to reflect alone.

Angel came home to find Alastor had gone to bed early, clad only in his boxers and a black cotton teeshirt a bit too big for him, with too many sleeves, and faded vulgar word printed on the front of it. Angel smiled and flopped onto the bed beside him, startling the deer awake.

"Thought you hated that shirt." Angel said softly, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the night too much.

"I do." Alastor answered, yawning. "But I love our children. Anyway… must admit it be soft." 

Angel hummed, agreeing. "Can't not be soft after years of bein' worn and all of the extra shit you put it through." 

"Smell like all o' you." Alastor muttered defensively, somewhat muffled as he shoved his face into Angel's fur. 

Angel chuckled, and if Alastor regularly wore the shirt as pajamas, he didn't question it.


	8. Hearts and Arts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor takes Angel on a date to an art gallery and meet one of their Other Children by pure dumb chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Gore and body horror... Its severely messed up.
> 
> Anyway happy valentines day.

Alastor had been noticing something Angel would do for years. Over two decades in fact. While shopping Angel would pick up a sketchbook, look at it wistfully for a while, and put it back down. Or, more frustratingly, he would buy it and the poor thing would end up pushed aside somewhere never to be used. It was…sad. Alastor wished he knew a way to fix whatever the block was that barred his husband from drawing when he clearly wanted to.

It was by pure chance that he saw the flyer for The Gallery. He had known of the place beforehand, knowing of it vaguely as being a sort of art museum for the Pride Ring's nobility. He had never been, as it was the sort of place that attracted pretentious folk attempting to worm their way into favor with aristocracy and he didn't care much for the snooty sort of demons that frequented it anyway. Still, the fact that the flyer was advertising an open house to meet some of Hell's most prolific artists for a singular day, _Valentine's Day_ of all the days on the calendar… Maybe that's what Angel needed to inspire him to revisit a neglected hobby. They were overdue for a date night anyway.

"Angel, are you going to be too terribly busy on frday?"

"I got a sesh with Cha-Cha in the mornin' but after that no." Angel answered easily. "You askin' me out, Big Red?" He teased.

"It has been quite a while." 

_Twenty-Two looked over his work. He had arranged Judah in a way that he wouldn't be able to move much, any wrong twitch forming the risk of tearing something important and causing the eel to bleed out. Still he'd left the widely finned tail free. It would be a way for Judah to establish some personal space if he needed it. He'd also left Judah's fingers alone even though he had bolted his hands together to cradle his own heart._

_Twenty-Two knelt down, placing his own hand softly over the organ, feeling it beat against his fingertips. Shifting his position, he tapped the same rhythm against Judah's thumb._

_"You're beautiful this way." Twenty-Two praised. "I want you to keep tapping your hand so I know you're awake." He instructed. "If you faint, this ends."_

_Judah couldn't answer. Not in words, at least. But he started up tapping his finger just as Twenty-Two's finger left, keeping time with the beating of his heart. Twenty-Two smiled, brushing a bit of blood from his hand over Judah's cheek. He sat fully on the floor then, scooting a bit to lean somewhat against Judah's less damaged side and idly fidgeting with the frills that peeked out of the gill openings that had been loosened from where his skin had been opened._

_"The Gallery will be open soon." Twenty-Two reported._

"Oh how sweet!" Alastor said, practically skipping over to a particularly gruesome exhibit. 

"That's not sweet, Al. That's sick." Angel protested.

"Sickeningly sweet." Alastor compromised, "Look, his heart is in his hands. It's quite romantic." 

"I'm rethinking our marriage." Angel said dryly, crossing both sets of arms.

The display in question was a grey-green eel without eyes. His chest was bore open, one side of ribs freed from his sternum to fan out in a way that displayed his insides and drew attention to his still beating heart that was indeed cradled in his hands. It hadn't been severed, just brought out of the space it should have been and still doing its duty of pumping blood throughout the vivisected body. 

As if that wasn't enough, the eel was also impaled. A pole that bolted to the base of where he knelt came up through his chin and out of his mouth. At the top was a shaded light. His very own spotlight, which just so happened to give him the appearance of having been contorted into a novelty lamp. All around his immediate space was a sharp chemical scent, which kept most of the other Gallery visitors from getting too close.

"Shit, the poor bastard's still awake." Angel reported, having noticed one of the eels fingers was tapping the back of his opposite hand in time to the beating of his exposed heart.

"See?" Alastor said cheerfully. "So much care went into this. Clearly a labor of love. Oh, I have to meet the artist."

It wasn't difficult to track down an imp that worked in the Gallery, the event meaning there were several of the staff walking around to serve drinks and food to those visiting. When asked about the artist of the eel lamp, she merely pointed up, and Alastor followed her direction until he saw a large spidery form lurking in a corner of the ceiling. His own red eyes, but in a set of four glanced at him briefly before returning full attention to the macabre lamp. The white and pink fur of the beast was also familiar, even if the shape was not.

"He's one of ours." Alastor informed softly, directing Angel to look as well. "The artist."

"Damn." Angel breathed, taking in the similarities. He'd gotten used to the skitters he'd seen being humanoid or deerish, so it was a shock to see one that had taken his spider genetics and meshed them horribly with Alastor's beastly shapeshifting. "You think he recognizes us?"

"I don't think he cares." Alastor shrugged. "The only thing in this building he has eyes for is that eel." 

"You want to meet him, don't you?" Angel asked knowingly.

"It isn't what we came here for." Alastor deflected. "We're here to have a lovely time at a Valentine's Day event at an art gallery that usually wouldn't let the riff raff like us in!"

"And meet some artists." Angel continued, knowing just what the fractional shift in Alastor's smile meant. 

"He's in a corner on the _ceiling_." Alastor pointed out. "Clearly he doesn't want to be approa-- _Angel!_ " 

Angel had walked away, back to the horrible eel-lamp.

"Hey," Angel said, nudging the eel's knee with his boot. "Get your boyfriend's attention, would you?"

The eel didn't seem to acknowledge Angel for a second, not that there were many ways to do so, but his steadily tapping finger did stop. Angel stood patiently, although movement on his peripheral did alert him to the fact the big spider in the corner had dropped down which drew surprised gasps from the others in The Gallery. 

The same white, pink, and black fur and red eyes walked purposely forward, although in a considerably less arachniform shape. He had shifted. Two arms and two legs, but otherwise quite similar to Angel and only an inch or so taller than Alastor. He didn't even glance at Angel before shoving him away and kneeling in front of the eel. 

"Are you conscious?" He asked, and the eel started tapping again. 

"Do you want up?" He asked again.

The tapping slowed, like the eel was thinking, then stopped completely.

"He's healed around everything holding him up." Alastor mused aloud. "It will hurt him less to just leave him like that, or at least kill him for now so he won't feel it." He suggested.

The spidery skitter looked up then, first at Alastor since he had spoken, then to Angel. "Everything hurts." He said simply, and started unscrewing the light shade and bulb.

He helped the eel stand, the pole through his throat making an awful squishing sound as it came free and subsequently unplugged a torrent of blood as it did. He wobbled, both from the sudden blood loss and having been on his knees for hours. Feeling a need to assist, Alastor used his shadow to find and bring forth a chair, which Twenty-Two guided Judah into.

"Di'n' know I wuz mee'in' yer paren's 'o'ay." The eel slurred, not able to close his mouth or operate it at all very well with the hole through his throat and chin. "Aw'war'."

This let Angel know the eel had heard his and Alastor's conversation. Not only had he been awake, he'd been lucid enough to think clearly.

"Well, neither did I." Twenty-Two replied, taking a moment to kiss the eel's heart before fitting it carefully in his chest where it was supposed to be.

"Yeah, it's a fuckin' surprise all around." Angel added, feeling the need to say something but unsure what. "It's, uh… Nice to meet you, kid. And your--"

"We're all adults and you don't know me. Lets keep this appropriate, shall we Misters Landry?" Twenty-Two interrupted coldly, more concerned with putting Judah back together.

Angel looked to Alastor and they both sighed. "Well, that was me tryin'." Angel muttered, an unsaid upset underlaying the passive words but audible enough to the deer who knew him well enough to hear it. 

"We can see that you're very busy." Alastor said, putting on an air of professionalism as had been requested of him. "We only want to ask your name," Alastor continued, giving a purposeful look to Angel, "And any advice you may have for dealing with blocks?"

"Twenty-Two." The skitter answered at the same time the eel answered; "Mess." Which was clearly a nickname.

"Do what you feel like. Don't wonder if anyone else'll like it, just make something." Twenty-Two continued as his advice. 

"Thank you." Alastor answered graciously, and both he and Angel silently agreed to get out of the artist's way. 

They spent the rest of the day looking at more two dimensional artwork. Drawings, paintings, and even a few pieces of calligraphy. Most of it was less violent and graphic than the centerpiece 'sculpture' they had focused on before. Aside from that initial hiccup, it did turn out to be a nice day of spending time and talking like they had originally intended to do. 

And despite the fact the Valentine's date hadn't gone exactly as intended, Alastor caught Angel doodling hardly a week later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of writing more about Twenty-Two and Judah. They're both kind of awful people but made for each other. I get that they aren't everyone's cup of tea.
> 
> Unfortunately, this chapter has art: https://bayouboy-alastor.tumblr.com/post/638489159805353984/gore-warning


End file.
